Could
by writersrefinery
Summary: Semi-canon ONE SHOT from Season 11 episode "Spooked." "This life that they've built around each other, but not together, would be so much less complicated if they could."


**Author's Note:** My favorite SVU episode of all time is Season 11's "Spooked." I have a lot of stories in my head from that episode but this is the one that stuck with me. It's from Elliot's POV and semi canon. The difference being that after Elliot declined Dean's offer to take Olivia home on her behalf (haha) that he actually took her home instead of Cragen making them stay all night.

Hope you enjoy. And please leave a review. I love to hear all of your thoughts :)

* * *

She's standing. Wobbling, but she's still there.

In front of you.

Breathing.

She's okay.

It had taken some maneuvering, but you were finally able to convince Cragen to let the two of you go for the night even if it was just for a few hours. If that fuck Porter was good for anything, it was taking the shot that killed Rojas and ultimately saved her life.

Ok fine. Porter was the one who saved her life, and at some point when you were back to the ego maniac that you are more often than not, you would admit how much that bothered you. But right now it didn't matter. What mattered is that the case was in the hands of the Feds now and you could focus solely on Olivia. Getting her home safe. Making sure that this wasn't yet one more case that took another piece of her away.

You've watched over the years as your colleagues slowly but surely let the job get to them.

Jeffries.

Cassidy.

Lake.

Novak.

You couldn't stand for her to be one of them. Because the truth of the matter is you can't do this job any longer if she's not by your side. The time had come and gone where you had the same passion for SVU that you did when you first started. Everyday you wake up, your muscles a little sorer, your reaction time a little slower, your heart a little heavier. You hold on because she does.

Because she needs it. And you need her.

You hadn't been more than a few feet away from her when the bullet that came out of nowhere shot in her direction. Seeing her hit the ground was like being transported to four years ago all over again.

Gitano.

In that instant everything happened in slow motion. You didn't know if she would survive and everything that the two of you had gone through instantly flashed before your eyes. But there was one distinct difference between then and now. Back then you weren't sure if you were in love with her.

Now you know you are.

And sometimes you think she knows it too. Now and then you're convinced she's in love with you too but Olivia has always been an enigma. Because it's words that the two of you don't speak. It's the touches you dare not make.

You could ask, but then it would change everything.

And nothing can change right now. You see her everyday. More than you see or interact with anyone else including your own wife and children. She knows the deepest parts of you that you would never share with anyone else, even though there are simple things that she doesn't. She may not know your favorite movie, song or the names of your favorite teachers, but she knows your biggest failures, fears and exactly what you need after your hardest cases. That is priceless. That's what makes your relationship unique in a way that no one else understands. You could change it.

Say fuck everything and give into what you've imagined more times than you've admitted to yourself or your priest. Love her fully, unconditionally and out loud. But then the world as both of you knew it would be turned upside down.

The phone buzzes in your pocket and you don't want to pick up because you know it's your wife. She wants you to come home and you could answer.

Tell her that you're just dropping off your partner and will be home soon. But you can't help that you feel like you are already at home.

With Olivia.

She's silent as you both get off the old elevator and walk in sync along the murky brown carpet of her hallway to the front door. The wood shifts beneath the thin fabric creating a crooked melody of your jumbled thoughts. Her shoulders are tense; the material of her light blue jacket swaying with her movements.

You could touch her and calm her down.

But cradling her in your arms earlier may have surpassed your touching quota for the year. Instead, you settle for the next best thing. "You ok Liv?"

Her stride doesn't break as she fumbles with the keys to the door. Her hands are trembling. At the station she seemed fine, but on the car ride over you could sense the darkness settling in. The fear is now taking hold of her from the inside out. You know it all too well. Been there one too many times and practically each time she was there beside you. Like you are now.

"Yeah I'm ok." You swear her lips quiver as she speaks matching the shaky movement in her hands. Instantly, you step forward wrapping your hand around hers to help put the key in the lock. Her breath hitches, and the curve of her ass fits perfectly in the place you want her the most. You jump back as if you've been burned and in a way you have. Her touch is painful because all it does is make you want more. _Need_ more.

"It's ok I got it."

 _You're the longest relationship I've ever had with a man._

The simple words echo through your head as you open the door to the apartment. You're greeted by the dim light of the lamp on her end table and the smell of the plug in cinnamon apple air fresheners that she loves so much.

"You don't have to stay El," she whispers. Her back is still to you as she pivots to the left immediately reaching for the bourbon you know she keeps in the cabinet next to the sink. One small glass tumbler follows the bottle to the top of the counter. She pours a little, drinking it down with one smooth sip and not so much as a grimace. Vaguely you wonder how much she actually does this. How she's gotten so used to the taste and the burn in her throat that she doesn't even register the bitterness. But then again she's good at that. Hiding what she feels. For you.

For her mom.

Her heart is only on her sleeve when it comes to the victims.

"I don't mind." You shut the door behind you and remove your jacket. The presence of you two in the space immediately feels stifling. There's a small radio on her coffee table, your eyes shifting back and forth between it and the television. Maybe if there was some noise in the room it would cut through the lingering tension and the swelling knot in your throat.

"Do you want some?" Olivia tips her glass towards you before downing another long sip. A content sigh leaves her lips after she swallows.

You desperately want it, but worry about your inhibitions being lowered when the desperate seams of your control are already fraying. This is how you unwind after tough cases. You've also resorted to waking your wife up in the middle of the night and taking her hard and fast just to dull the pain. But this is different. It's not just a tough case. Hell, now it isn't your case at all. Instead it was Olivia's life.

Fuck it. "Yeah," you rasp loosening the tie around your neck. "I'll have a glass."

You start to wonder how you've survived it all. The bullets, the perps, the victims...her. You've never wanted something so much in your life that it physically hurts. You've taken your share of blows over the years but none of them have measured up to the pain of this situation. Your chest feels heavy, your pulse is racing and fingers flexing with the intense burning need to touch her.

Somewhere.

Anywhere.

Glancing at the glass in front of you, you quickly tip it to your lips letting the bitter warm liquid slide down your throat. You aren't even done swallowing before you are already reaching for the bottle to pour a little more.

Olivia stands across from you, leaning against the counter and you can feel the heat of her stare. The cool burn of the brown liquid has you unbuttoning the cuffs of your shirt and rolling up your sleeves to get some air. You feel suffocated. Everything is closing in and for God's sakes it's just too quiet in here. It gives you too much time to think. To hear her slow even breaths. To focus on the bare skin between her shoulder and ear that you could press your lips against, and finally get that first taste of her that you've wanted for so long.

You know that she would be sweet just like the rest of her body that you could lick from head to toe, not missing one glorious inch of that golden skin. Olivia could writhe under your unrelenting touch. Your hands and mouth working hard to bring her to the edge just before you slip deep inside her.

Damn.

Your short nails scratch the stubble of your chin as you think about what your fingers could do to her. Rub inside the warm wet tunnel that would fit perfectly around you. As the last remnants of bourbon crawl into your veins, your eyes lock on the amazing curve of her hips. The same hips you could tightly grasp as you drive into her from behind.

Olivia clears her throat and you lock eyes with her ignoring the slight curl of her lip. She caught you staring. You wait for the weirdness, for her to push you away but it doesn't come.

"Hand me your glass." Your voice is more hoarse than you intend. There wasn't a need to wash the two small glasses right away but you had to keep your hands busy...so you wouldn't give in to the desperate need to touch her.

"Just leave it El," Olivia waves her hand. At some point while she uttered those four words she ended up close to you. Too close. Breathing in, you ignore her words and finish rinsing and placing the glasses on her small drying rack.

These moments are the ones you love and hate the most. After something happens that haunts the two of you so much, no matter how emotionally and physically drained the two of you are you won't find sleep. There's been more and more of those moments lately. You were inconsolable after not being able to free Victor Tate after you promised you would get him out. When you decided to put yourself in solitary confinement you were going crazy, but somehow between the push-ups, the bugs and the small rations of food all your thoughts turned to her. She was there to help you through it all and you returned the favor when Sonya's alcoholism reminded her of her mother. Serena's name comes up less and less these days and you don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. All you know is that you were there for her as she was for you. There was never a second thought to be anywhere else.

"We have to be back to the house in three hours," she points out. There was almost no reason for them to come back to her place except he didn't want whatever feelings were bubbling between them to boil over while others were around.

"Are you sure you're ok?" There's a long pause and the silence pushes you around to face her again. She's still close.

Her shoulder length chestnut hair is a curtain around her face hiding what she feels. "Liv?"

She shakes her head but no words come out.

"C'mere." You pull her into your arms and a content sigh escapes your lips. You hold her tight. One hand loosely around her waist, the other stroking her hair. You could bring her closer and make the hug that much more intimate, but instead you stand perfectly still while she quietly lets the tears fall.

"You're ok. You're ok," you repeat. The words are comfort to her and a reminder to yourself. This won't be the last time and that's the hardest part of all. Each time it takes a little longer to relax her and gets a lot harder to let go. You're a selfish son of a bitch because somehow you want to be here to protect her all the time, not just on nights like this...but you still want your family.

You could divorce Kathy, live with Olivia and follow your heart. But your heart has never led you. It's always been about duty and responsibility, not the fairy tales you've read to your daughters when they were young.

"Thank you," she whispers. When she backs up you look down and see her tears staining your shirt. It would dry before long as if they were never there, but you would know the extent of her pain. And then have to walk away as you always do. You wave off her thank you because it goes without saying. This is what you do, what you've always done.

"So what do we do now? Do you want to try and get some sleep?", you suggest making it clear that you don't plan on going home. It made no sense to go all the way to Queens just to have to come back to pick her up in a couple of hours. It's not like you could sleep anyway.

"You really don't have to stay. Rojas is dead. It was a close call," she chokes up but quickly recovers. "But it's fine. I'm just gonna take a hot shower and get out of these clothes."

"You go ahead. I'll just turn on the TV or something. Find a bad movie for us to watch."

She doesn't argue and you're thankful for that. While the minutes tick slowly by, you sit on her sofa as the sound of her shower taunts you.

You could be in there with her, washing her back and holding her while the last few sobs racked her body. But instead you sit still, aimlessly changing the channel.

You've been to her apartment a number of times but never really noticed how the decor is so uniquely Olivia. From the simple bronze picture frames aligning her shelves to the stack of books on her modest bookshelf, it's exactly what you pictured. Before you run your fingers across the spines of the books, you already know that they are all about crime or psychology.

Eventually your morbid curiosity takes over and you have to see for yourself. The shelves hold little pieces of your partner that could help you get to know her just a little bit more.

There's a picture of her mom but it's different than the one on her desk. This one is with Olivia and they look...happy. There's also a picture from the day she graduated Sienna College where she's all teeth. You don't think you've seen her smile that much since the first year of your partnership when she was still green. There's more abstract pictures and you never pegged her to be much of a nature person, but each frame shows a piece of tranquility that you both strive for. Mountains and a beach, a type of paradise that neither of you can escape the dark of the world long enough to go away and truly appreciate.

Just looking at the pictures gives you a small sense of serenity when you catch a glance of another picture in the far left corner. The first picture on the shelf.

It's a picture taken shortly after the two of you became partners. You're rocking a goatee that you never really felt comfortable with and shaved off the next day, and she looks young and carefree. It was before Richard White stalked her and the Stefan Tanzic case threatened to derail her early career. You had been in the unit for over a year by then, but there was something about being with Olivia that made the darkness seem lighter. You weren't keen on a female partner initially and thought she was too naive, but she ended up being the perfect counterpart.

You couldn't have predicted the fights, the tension boiling over and her leaving. You definitely didn't think you would both find a weird sense of comfort in other partners. Dani and Dean were topics you tried to leave behind years ago, never bothering to reveal truths you weren't sure the other was ready to hear. After seeing the chemistry between her and Dean earlier, you can't help but wonder….had he touched her? Had he kissed her? Had he made love to her? All the things you could but wouldn't do.

The thoughts alone make you painfully aware of just how close you've come to losing her to someone else and you feel just how messed up the whole scenario is .

"Seems like forever ago doesn't it?" The smooth timbre in her voice washes over your body. Her steps become closer and you hold your breath as she stops right beside you. Putting the frame back on the shelf, you don't turn to look at her. Not quite ready to face her yet again.

"You ok?" Her soft hand touches your elbow and the delicious scent of berries and vanilla body wash flood your nostrils.

"I should be asking you that." A dry chuckle leaves your lips as your scrub your hand down your face trying to fight off the exhaustion. "You were the one shot at remember?"

You look up and see the pained smile on her face. "I'm fine. I'm glad Dean got that shot off when he did."

Your eyes search hers for a hint of something. Anything. Her stare is unwavering, hard and unrelenting. She's reading you in that way only she can.

An errant drop of water from her wet hair slides down her neck into the opening of her robe. "Nothing happened El. With Dean and me, nothing happened."

The relief is instant and your eyes close taking it all in. She's single, Dean's single. It could still happen but right now you are happy as hell that it hasn't….yet.

"Ok," you say simply. You don't dwell. That's not what the two of you do. "Come on let's sit. I'll bring you a glass of water. We got a few hours to kill before heading back." Your hand touches the small of her back as you guide her to the sofa. She doesn't like to feel vulnerable but this time she's letting you take care of her. You need it more than you are willing to admit. "Sure you don't want to try to get some sleep?"

"I think you know better," she says as she sits in the middle of the sofa. No matter which side you take, you will end up close to her and that's exactly where you want to be. Close enough to know she's ok, to feel her warmth, and know this was just one more time that you happened to escape the worst. But not too close that you make a mistake.

You could have her lay on your lap, stroke her hair, kiss her forehead and tell her over and over again that you are happy that she's okay. And that you love her.

But instead you do what you should do. Keep that safe inch of distance from her and preserve one of the few relationships in your life can't live without.

Olivia yawns and lays down on the sofa, her legs bunched up just shy of where you sit. Her eyes meet yours and you smile gently. "Go ahead and spread out."

The legs you've dreamt wrapped around your waist lay across your lap and you freeze for a second. Breathe. You can do this. You are in control. You are always in control.

You could reach out and massage her feet, relax her even more but…

"Hey," you say as you reach for her left foot. She lays completely on her back giving you better access. You haven't given a foot massage since Kathy was pregnant but judging by the soft moans Olivia is making you haven't lost your touch. The sounds are bad enough and you scoot further back into the sofa so her legs don't come into contact with your crouch. You keep your eyes on the television, suddenly super interested in the old black and white movie. It works and you find yourself being lost in thought enough that you don't notice that she's fallen asleep. Removing the blanket from the back of the sofa, you lay it across her and tuck her in as best you can considering your position. You can't help but stare at her as she sleeps. She's beautiful, moreso than she will ever realize. Her lips call out to you but that's a temptation you resist. You settle for brushing her hair from her face instead.

"Good night Liv," you whisper and she shifts in her sleep. For a second, you worry that she's awake but she quickly settles. You could stop staring at her, lay your head back and get some sleep too. But you don't. Your eyes will stay on her until you have to wake her up in a few hours. To make sure she's safe.

You and her have always been magic and you don't want to dim the spell.

Because you need her to survive the darkness.

Because you need her to survive.

Because you need her.


End file.
